Playing With Fire
by PaintingWithAutumnColors
Summary: Asami notices that she's always had a soft spot for firebenders... and he was no exception. Angst. Irosami. Feels.


**The Legend Of Korra Fanfic #2!**

**Title: **Playing With Fire

**Genre: **Romance\Hurt+Comfort

**Pairing(s) [If Romance]: **Asami Sato\General Iroh II

**Rating: **M

**Summary:** Asami notices that she's always had a soft spot for firebenders... and he was no exception. PWP. Probably.

* * *

It's always been a rule, especially in the Sato household. She knew it all too well.

"Don't play with fire... or you will get burnt."

She's experienced it countless times in the short time she's been living in Republic City. She felt the burns often; the deep scorches of her mother's death... the singes of her break-up with Mako... the charred ruins of her father's betrayal. Fire brought her all of that. Its rage and destructive nature and she was well-versed in how utterly dangerous the element was.

However, Asami never admits her admiration for it. Fire... it was warmth, heat, comfort; control and yet uncontrollable... it enticed her. So it's no surprise how she felt safe with Mako, how she felt she could curl up into a tiny ball and snuggle against him.

But he burnt her. Ran off with her only female friend. Left her nursing wounds and picking up remains and promising herself never to play with fire ever again.

Which is a surprise, she realizes just now, when she finds herself pinned to a wall in her abandoned mansion, reveling in hot palms against her wrists, and a warm tongue snaking down her neck, coaxing a moan from her. She tries to steady herself, dizzy with the warmth stirring deep in her stomach and her nether regions, and lifts her head, emerald-green clashing with amber-gold, eyes darkening in lust.

"This isn't a very... comfortable position..." Asami squeaks, well aware at the pressure and lack of space between their bodies. Although she was hot and bothered and getting even more frustrated by the second, she wasn't going to have it right here against a wall. No sirree. Not in any lifetime. Sure, when they got accustomed to each other and tired of the bedroom in - hopefully - the near future and wanted to try new things...

_This isn't the time to be thinking_, she reminded herself. She needed him. Just not right here.

Iroh breathed a light sigh, acutely aware of how her body tensed against him, how she seemed to be radiating heat with every simple blink of long eyelashes, how those eyes drew him in... "I agree," he simply replied, dreading the moment when he will have to break the contact... "although you are much too... irresistible... I guess we shall resume this in the bedroom?"

She nods, gently forcing herself off the wall and colliding with his torso, tugging the lapels on his uniform down so she can seize his lips with hers, and drags him backwards. He follows along, entranced by her, moving his arms to grab at her bottom, gently kneading it, unknowingly deepening the kiss.

Asami's silently glad for the distraction... the mansion and its large, looming ceilings and empty rooms remind her of pain and loss and betrayal and fire. Fire and its lack of control and she is tempted to break the kiss until she steps back into one of the guest rooms and she loses footing against the bed posts, Iroh tumbling on top of her, still kissing her passionately, and the way her back relaxes makes her sigh contently, arousing him even more.

Their elegant clothing soon discarded in less-than-elegant heaps together on the bedroom floor; makeup smeared and hair in sprawled messes; nude bodies tangled under thin sheets and skin flushed with blood and heat and shiny with sweat. The bittersweet haze of lovemaking blankets them, one of her hands tightly gripping his hair, the other arm slung across his back, tracing muscles and clawing skin. He's fisting the bedspread, muttering less-than-honorable curse words, grunting and groaning, his sounds intermixing with her panting and sweet moans and they swear it's music to their ears.

Iroh studies her movements; he makes sure to feel every curve of her body, every scent of her skin. She notices how the sex isn't fast-paced... primal and animalistic like in some of the books she's read. He's ensuring they take it slow, losing themselves in long, loving, chaste kisses and reveling in soft strokes and the feel of their skin together, and suddenly, when she can't think anymore and her breathing begins to hitch and Iroh begins to speed up, she knows they're getting close. They lose each other, Asami in a long wail, dragging her fingers up his back, and Iroh gasping, almost losing his breath, collapsing onto her.

They're curled up in bed against each other the next morning, sipping hot tea, and Iroh generates a calm flicker of a flame in his palm, studying it and coaxing her to touch it. She's hesitant at first, scared of burns and unpleasant memories flooding back and disturbing that moment they shared, and he captures her lips in a reassuring kiss. "Touch it. It won't hurt you, I'm sure of it."

She cups her hands around the flame, feeling it pulse calmly. "It's like a heartbeat…" she whispers… her eyes blurring and refocusing and Iroh outs the fire, pulling her closer to him and in this moment, she feels all the scorches and singes and blisters and burns heal. Not every fire can be dangerous.


End file.
